


Last Rites

by Butterfly_Truths



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Devil!England, Gen, Slight Religious Themes, Sweet Devil, human!America
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 12:04:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11736678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterfly_Truths/pseuds/Butterfly_Truths
Summary: No matter how long he lived or how many places he set up shop, it was always the same. Humans were such predictable creatures.  Humans desires were ever so dull and self centered that it made his line of work quite monotonous honestly, but a deal was a deal and Arthur was hardly going to turn a willing soul away simply because he thought they lacked imagination.This though, this was something… different.





	Last Rites

Humans were such predictable creatures.

No matter how long he lived or how many places he set up shop, it was always the same. A few whispers here, a bit of misplaced hope there and within days business would be booming. The requests were always the same- make me rich, make me famous, make this person fall in love with me. Humans desires were ever so dull and self centered that it made his line of work quite monotonous honestly, but a deal was a deal and Arthur was hardly going to turn a willing soul away simply because he thought they lacked imagination. 

Perhaps the burning pits of Hell would inspire them?

However, once in a blue moon he received those sobbed pleas, those desperate proposals that made his skin positively crawl. He may find human narcissism endlessly irritating, but he absolutely  _ loathed _ those few altruistic humans that somehow crossed his path. He couldn’t stand all the crying and blubbering as they plead their case to him,  _ begged _ him to bring back their dearly beloved and save them from Death’s icy grip. Though, there was a certain satisfaction in snatching away a soul that was so clearly Heaven-bound, but it didn’t quite make up for the sheer unpleasantness the encounters brought with them.

This though, this was something... different.

Arthur eyed the boy, no  _ child _ , standing before him for he could be no older than ten. True, it wasn’t exactly rare for children to summon beings such as him, but those were usually born from mistakes on the human’s part. Normally at the sight of the black horns peaking out of flaming red hair and the folded black wings and tail behind him the unfortunate child would run away screaming for their parents. Not this one though. He stood calmly before the demon, staring at him with eyes that might have once been a sparkling blue, but had dulled from prolonged exhaustion and stress. 

“You’re a demon right?” the boy asked him, no fear to be found in his voice, just simple curiosity. Arthur didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed that the child wasn’t terrified of him. He was, after all, a creature of Hell. He settled on annoyed, crossing his arms across his chest.

“The proper term is a crossroads demon,” he corrected. The boy didn’t seem to care about the distinction.

“But you’re the one that grants other people’s wishes, right?” he pressed. Arthur fought against rolling his eyes. Again, not  _ quite _ what his job was, but he supposed in a child’s mind it was enough.

“In a way yes. Now, what is a little boy doing out so late at night talking to a demon of all things?” Arthur had to admit he was a bit curious. It had been quite a while since the last time he’d had a child summon him, and that had only been to prove to an older kid how ‘brave’ he was. Needless to say, this was already more interesting.

The child fidgeted, his hand reaching up to pull out a small wooden cross that had been hanging around his neck underneath his t-shirt. Arthur held back a grimace at seeing the holy object so close. Great, so the kid was religious, that right there probably dropped his chances of making a deal by half. The devote were so zealously dedicated to their supposed savior. The boy played with it, slowly twisting it this way and that.

“I can’t remember when Mattie wasn’t sick. Mom and Dad don’t like to talk about it when I’m around, but I’m a good listener. They say he’s got cancer. A big tumor,” the boy reach up and poked the side of his head, “right here. The doctors call it stage four, but I don’t really know what that means, just that it’s bad.” Arthur could already tell where this story was going, but he was rather fascinated by the dispassionate description the child was giving him. Most would already be in tears at this point, but it looked like he was beyond that now.

“Mattie has to live in the hospital now. Mom and Dad take me to go visit him when I’m not in school. Dad usually stays outside and talks to the doctors and Mom sits and prays. She told me if we prayed hard enough that God would hear us and make Mattie better.” A small jolt went through Arthur as he saw the ferocity of the boy’s animosity spark in his eyes. For the first time in decades the demon’s interest was  _ truly  _ piqued. 

“But she was lying. I prayed and prayed and  _ prayed  _ for God to help us but Mattie’s only gotten sicker and I heard the doctors telling dad that he only has a few weeks left and  _ it’s not fair _ .”

“Life is hardly ever fair,” Arthur quipped just to be contrary. The boy frowned.

“Well  _ yeah _ I know  _ that _ but if God takes care of his people then why doesn’t he help Mattie? He tears up when someone steps on a bug for christ’s sake. He’s like, a saint or something.”

“And this is why you summoned me?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I figured if the angels wouldn’t listen to me then I should get someone else to. They say that when you help someone that you  _ gotta _ help them cause you agreed to.” Again, not completely  _ incorrect _ , but not entirely  _ correct  _ either.

“Crossroad demons are bound to the contracts they sign with humans,” Arthur acknowledged, “but we get something in exchange for our… ‘help’.” It was slightly pathetic how quickly the boy lit up with the hope that Arthur truly could assist him. And he had been so interesting up until this point too. Of course, naturally he’d ask him what the price for his brother’s recovery was, and as soon as Arthur named it he’d shut the whole thing down. A quiet sigh slipped past his lips. Oh well, might as well get on with it. 

“What do you want? I’ll give you anything!”

“The price of my services is your soul.” There, now that it was out in the open there was no stopping the final outcome of this little venture. Any second now the boy would reject him and run on back to wherever he lived and Arthur would hang around for another few days before leaving again, perhaps he’d hop the pond and try his luck in England, or perhaps France… 

“Okay.” That one word, said so simply and steadfast- it stopped Arthur’s thoughts in their tracks, completely derailed them in fact. He looked down at the child, probably gaping he was sure, searching for any signs that the boy was lying to him. He could see the unwavering conviction in his eyes though, it made them burn. He could see it in his rigid stance, the balled up fists and straightened back.

“Are you sure?” he found himself asking. What was he doing, trying to talk a human out of a deal that they were clearly willing to make? But it was so surprising to him, so unexpected, he had to push. “You’ll only live for ten years. After that I’ll come to take your soul down to Hell. You can never go to Heaven. Are you truly accepting eternal damnation for a sickly human?”

The boy took his time, and Arthur could tell that he was taking this seriously. He looked down at his cross and then back at Arthur, catching his gaze and holding it there. “Mattie’s always been there for me, taking the blame for me when I screw up. I don’t deserve him really, but I  _ do _ know that he deserves something better than what God gave him, and if I have to give you my soul to make him happy, then I will. If Heaven won’t help me, then I’ll gladly go into Hell for him.” The boy smiled then, a small beatific thing that had Arthur’s demonic heart skipping a beat- for in that moment he truly looked like a cherub that had wandered away from the pearly gates above. “I’m not making a mistake this time, I know the difference.”

Throat dry, Arthur swallowed. “What is your name boy?”

“Alfred F. Jones, mister.”

Moving forward, Arthur crouched down so that he was level with Alfred. He skimmed a finger across his cheekbone and down his jaw, and he felt pleased with the fact that Alfred didn’t flinch away from him like so many of his previous customers had. Holding his chin loosely Arthur saw himself reflected in those baby blue eyes, and he wondered about the thoughts in his head, the decisions that had led him to this very moment that they now shared.

“Well then, Alfred,” he murmured, tilting his head so that their noses brushed, wooden cross hanging forgotten between them. “I will grant you your wish.”


End file.
